Lacchman rolled onto his knees, grabbed Harjeet by the shoulders. “Harjeet, you must listen to me. She’s … she’s gone. Our sister is gone. I saw it, Harjeet. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw them kill her.”

Harjeet grew cold, chilled. He had seen the bad men with his own eyes, had seen them strike people down. He had not seen Simran among them, had not heard her screams. Lacchman was wrong. Their sister was safe.

“Take me to her, bhraji. Please.”

Lacchman turned away. “No, Harjeet. She’s with God now. She is with our mother.”

Harjeet threw down the bag and spun away toward the smoldering heap of the camp. He tore off down the hill, away from Lacchman, toward the charred tents, over limbs detached from bodies, babies crying out for mothers, men beating their chests, women bent over praying.

The stench of death hit him like a slap. It eroded the lining of his windpipe. He choked on it, felt the bile begin to rise in his throat. He tore on, his bare feet thudding against the ground. He would run until he found his sister, until he could nestle himself next to her again, name the constellations with her. If Lacchman’s words were true, if she was dead, if her body was here, somewhere on this earth, he would lie down right next to her and never leave. They would still have each other. They would still have the nights, the stars.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

London

March 17, 2017

Gertrude didn’t remember it was her birthday. She hadn’t remembered her last few birthdays, couldn’t tell if this was because, as an octogenarian, the years passed by so quickly they felt like pages in a flipbook. When she received her breakfast tray this morning, pink carnations lay alongside her silverware with a note wishing her a happy birthday from Pretoria Homes. She thought she was given the wrong tray, called Rachel to retrieve it. Rachel directed Gertrude’s gaze to the calendar hanging on her wall, the box indicating the date.

It really was her birthday.

With most of Gertrude’s friends and family long gone, birthdays had lost their significance. Her parents had died over sixty years ago. How was that possible, to have been separated from them for so long, to have lived a lifetime triple their own?